


The Minister of Something or Other

by windandthestars



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/pseuds/windandthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus was his, his responsibility.  He would let her stay, let her linger in the crowd as long as he could, but she would have to leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Minister of Something or Other

**Author's Note:**

> mention of previous Magnus whump.

He's been watching her all evening. Magnus at any sort of function- dinner party, gala, backyard barbeque- was stunning. It was her careful attention to the smallest details, her undeniable charm, and endless self-confidence that made her the center of attention, the coveted prize for all the attendees, regardless of what the original intent of the event might be. Will usually ignores the fuss, both for his sanity and because it's the only way to keep himself from shoving her up against the closest wall. Tonight though, he's watching her.

Her makeup is darker, more thickly applied than usual, her steps in her classic black stilettos sway ever so slightly, but her hair is perfectly set, her smile infectious. She's breathtakingly beautiful, charming, seemingly overjoyed, but in the quiet moments between conversations, in the seconds it takes everyone's eyes to flicker away, she winces, tiny almost imperceptible grimaces.

She's downing champagne like it's water, and while between her metabolism and her disposition, that's normally not much of a problem- Magnus tipsy was az polite and charming as ever, if a bit inattentive- the pain killers she's on are going to be an issue.

He hadn't wanted her to come tonight, but he had known better than to say anything. She’s stubborn at the best of times, and dealing with an injury, feeling coddled she’s near impossible to reason with. Under her dress, deep midnight blue, smooth and flowing, is a wide swath of gauze holding tight to bandages and her bruised ribs. Somewhere under it all, is an angry red gash, still painful and healing. It's been a couple of days, and while the worst of her injuries, the facial lacerations have healed, the brunt of it, the pain, still lingers.

He'll have to extract her soon, lie about a meeting, or a long day ahead, brunch with the UN, or an early morning presentation at a conference or board meeting. He'll have to lie and hope she plays along because there's no way for him to tip her off without giving himself away.

She hasn’t made a misstep yet but her attentiveness is growing forced and it's only a matter of time before people start to notice. He may not understand politics, but he knows how Magnus plays the game, and this crack, this error would not be tolerated, not by anyone and most of all certainly not by Magnus herself.

Magnus was his, his responsibility. He would let her stay, let her linger in the crowd as long as he could, but she would have to leave. He would have to pull her away and usher her back to their room, the room they were sharing because he wasn't about to leave her alone after a night like tonight. The drive back to the Sanctuary would only take a couple of hours in the morning, a leisurely trip compared to their usual jaunts through the sky in tin boxes. A couple of slow easy hours, but still not a trip he wanted to make tonight. He'd had a drink at the beginning of the night, he was safe to drive but he worried about the stress on her body, the extra hours spent awake, the bumps of the road. They were staying in town tonight. She needed the rest, whatever sleep he could force her into.

He would help her undress, take down her hair, then lie awake, yawning, watching her until he was sure she had drifted off, before falling asleep himself, breathing easy for the first time tonight. Before that though, he would have to pull her away from all this without a gleeful sneer at the man she was talking to, the Minister of something or other, that might as well have been Magnus' breast for all the staring he was doing. Will would pull her away with a polite apology and herd her upstairs without comment.

He watches her, steeling himself, trying not to let his jealousy flare in his chest. He had about a minute now until the Minister dropped his hors d'oeuvre onto Magnus' skirt and about thirty seconds more before she spilled champagne on his tux. Will sets his empty glass on a deserted table and wanders over. "Magnus," he murmurs, "it's getting late."


End file.
